


Palette Swap Vol.1: Beginnings

by Njorlpinipini



Series: Palette Swap [1]
Category: RWBY, Red vs. Blue
Genre: A lot of RWBY dialogue taken from transcripts, A novelization of sorts, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Updates whenever I feel up to it, no freelancers, others stay the same, some things change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Njorlpinipini/pseuds/Njorlpinipini
Summary: Nine colorful space marines are dropped into a world that defies all logic. Are they ready for remnant? Is Remnant ready for them?  Note: this is sort of a combination between a noveliztion of RWBY and a crossover with RvB. A good portion of RWBY dialogue is taken straight from the wiki's transcript.





	1. Prologues

In the world of Remnant, in the city of Vale, at the intersection of Harvest Avenue and Lantern Street, there lay a small shop. It was named “From Dust Till Dawn,” and sold Dust. (Hence the name.) Not average, run-of-the-mill, gets-on-everything-and-reduces-air-quality dust, but rather _Dust,_ an important type of crystal that served as an almost universal energy source, propellant, and fuel for Vale, and indeed, all of Remnant. The importance of such a resource meant that Dust shops were almost always packed with people looking to purchase ammunition or batteries. However, on this particular Tuesday evening, the shop contained only one customer: Ruby Rose, age 15.

 Ruby stood in the back of the shop, browsing through the latest issue of _Weapons Magazine,_ headphones blasting pop music into her ears. She paused, opening her scroll to check the time. It was 8:00, meaning there was still an hour before her father expected her back at the hotel. Her anxieties put to rest, she closed the device and returned to her magazine, turning to an article on a new type of shotgun shell that supposedly produced twice as much recoil energy as any other. Not for the first time, Ruby wished her elder sister, Yang, was there with her.

Although the two of them had spent all day seeing the sights of the city with their father, he’d turned them loose for the evening, under the condition that they had to be back at the hotel by 9. Yang had taken off to “take care of business,” which Ruby knew was code for “I’m gonna visit a bunch of shady nightclubs and probably get into a fight.” Ruby, however, knew how to appreciate the finer things in life. Said finer things were usually of high caliber, exploded on impact, or could put a round into a boarbatusk’s left nostril at 500 yards. She let out a sigh. Come tomorrow morning, Yang would be strolling through the gates of Beacon academy, while Ruby and her father would be on an airship back to the boring old island of Patch, and with it another dull year at the Signal School of Combat. _“Yang is so lucky,”_ she thought to herself. _“No more being embarrassed by dad or Uncle Qrow at school, she probably gets to visit the city whenever she wants, and just think of all the cool weapons she gets to see! Maybe she’ll meet someone with a spear that shoots rockets, or a shield that turns into a cannon!”_

Ruby’s fantasies were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see a man in a dark suit and tinted sunglasses gesturing at his ears. Ruby took the hint and shrugged off her headphones. “Yes?” she asked.

“I said, put your hands in the air!” the man said. Ruby’s attention turned to the large sword in his hand as she slowly connected the dots in her head.

“Are you… robbing me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” responded the man, visibly annoyed.

“Oooh...” Ruby said, having difficulty containing her excitement. It was, after all, a moment such as this that she had been training three years for.

Her foot shot upwards, connecting squarely with the man’s chest and sending him flying into a rack of firecrackers. Another identically dressed man stepped into the aisle. “Freeze!” he barked, raising a submachine gun.

Ruby was in motion before he could fire a single shot, tackling the thug through the shop window and onto the street outside. Reaching for a magnetic plate strapped to her back, she pried loose the large object affixed there. With the flick of a hidden switch, cogs turned, springs unwound, and the device unfolded into a large scythe whose blade bit into the pavement. This was Crescent Rose, Ruby’s homemade weapon and constant companion.  Her dad wouldn’t be happy if he knew she’d brought it to Vale, but he should’ve already known she’d never go anywhere without her precious sniper-scythe.

She turned off her music, knowing she’d need to focus on what came next. A tall man in a white jacket and bowler hat stared out from the store back at her. _"He must be the boss,"_  Ruby thought to herself. Bowler Hat Man frowned, chewing on a cigar as he surveyed the scene.

“Okayyy,” he remarked, turning to his remaining thugs. “Get her!”

The first man dashed at her, only to take a flying kick to the face. A second went for her flank, but Ruby pulled a trigger, firing her weapon’s built-in sniper rifle. The recoil caused the butt of the weapon to slam into the goon’s chest, sending him flying into a wall. Her next shot propelled the flat of her blade into a third man, flooring him. A fourth goon had finally managed to get his gun up and began spraying bullets in her general direction. Firing a third shot, Ruby launched herself forwards, dodging the bullets and swinging Crescent Rose’s snath upwards into the man’s crotch. There was an audible _crunch_ as the weapon met his pelvis and sent him flying. Leaping up after him, Ruby smacked her weapon’s tang down onto the goon’s shoulder, slamming him back into the ground at the feet of his boss.

Bowler Hat Man sighed, crushing his cigar against the ground with a long cane. “Worth every cent, you were,” he remarked, addressing the men lying sprawled on the ground. Sirens began to echo in the distance, signaling the imminent approach of law enforcement. He looked up to face Ruby, a sly look on his face. “Well, Red,” he began, “I think we can all say this has been an eventful evening, and as much as I’d love to stick around…” He raised his cane at Ruby and flicked a switch. Ruby saw a crosshair extend from the end.

 _“Uh-oh,”_ She thought, and barely managed to leap out of the way as the patch of asphalt she had been standing on exploded behind her. The dust cleared and Ruby turned to see Bowler Hat Man making a getaway up a nearby fire escape. She turned to the shopkeep, who still seemed to be processing the scene. “You okay if I go after him?” She asked. He grunted in approval, and Ruby took a running leap and easily jumped to the roof of the building, where Bowler Hat Man was standing with his back to her. “Hey!” she shouted, brandishing Crescent Rose in what she hoped was a threatening manner.

“Persistent,” she heard the man mutter under his breath. Ruby suddenly noticed the hum of a jet engine, steadily growing louder.

A previously unseen aircraft rose from behind the building, opening its hatch to allow Bowler Hat Man aboard. Ruby instantly recognized it as the famous B-6 “Bullhead,” designed and built in Vale by the Cwierzky corporation. Ruby knew this because her sister’s passion for things that went _vroom_ was almost as great as her own passion for things that went  _boom._ Bowler Hat turned back towards her, tossing a bright red crystal at her feet. She could see that it was Dust, and it was red, so that meant it must be the explodey kind. _“But why would he throw it at me?”_ Ruby wondered, _“Did he think that if it hit my face I’d just blow up? Even I know that’s not how Dust works. Unless…”_

“End of the line, Red,” said the man, raising his cane-which-was-also-a-gun and firing at the crystal.

 _“I really should have seen this coming, shouldn’t I?”_ Ruby thought, as the world exploded around her. “ _Am I dead?”_ she wondered. The answer to this question quickly turned out to be “no” as her vision cleared and the ringing in her ears subsided. As to what had saved her, well…

A woman in a purple cape stood in front of her, doing battle with the aircraft before them. Waving what appeared to be a riding crop, she had trapped the bullhead in a cyclone of glass, concrete, and bricks. However, the shards of debris were soon incinerated in rings of fire cast by a shadowy figure standing in the jet’s doorway. Eager to do her part, Ruby raised Crescent Rose and opened fire on the bullhead’s mysterious occupant. The figure’s hands darted out, effortlessly blocking each shot. They made another elaborate gesture, and Ruby found herself and her savior surrounded by a ring of glowing flames.

It was at this moment that Ruby realized the fight may be out of her league.

The woman in the purple cape flicked her wand, and Ruby was thrown to the side as another massive explosion shook the building. She looked up to see the bullhead speeding into the distance, and her heart sank. She had failed to catch the crooks. _”On the other hand, however…”_ Ruby thought, her gaze turning towards the woman who had saved her life. There was only one type of person capable of wielding such power.

“You’re a huntress!” Ruby gasped, as the butterflies in her stomach threatened to pick her up and carry her away. “Can I have your autograph?”

The following hours were a total blur for Ruby. The cops finally showed up, some people yelled at her, and she was whisked down to the police station, where she found herself seated at a table across from the huntress, who was extremely cross with her.

“I hope you realize that your actions tonight will not be taken lightly, young lady. You put yourself and others in great danger.”

“They started it!” Ruby protested. This was true, but the huntress didn’t seem to care.

“If it were up to me, you’d be sent home with a pat on the back… and a slap on the wrist!” said the older woman, smacking her crop down for emphasis and eliciting a yelp from Ruby. “But,” she sighed, “There is someone here who would like to meet you.”

She stepped aside, and Ruby nearly had a heart attack as the _headmaster of Beacon Academy_ strode into the room, sipping from a coffee mug.

“Ruby Rose,” the man began to address her, but as he made eye contact Ruby swore she saw a hint of surprise flicker across his face. “You have silver eyes…” he muttered. Unsure if this was supposed to be a compliment, Ruby opened her mouth to speak. However, the man quickly regained his composure, whipping out a large scroll. “So!” he exclaimed, “Where did you learn to do _this_?” He pressed a button, and the device began playing a shaky, grainy video of her fight earlier that night, presumably recorded by a bystander. Still trying to process the fact that one of her greatest idols was currently sitting across the table, Ruby forced her answer out over a tongue that was currently doing its best impression of a hunk of lead.

“S-Signal Academy,” she managed.

“They taught you to use one of the most dangerous weapons ever designed?” At this question, Ruby’s already madly pounding heart decided to quit its job and play a game of hopscotch instead. To have the headmaster of Beacon Academy, probably the most famous school in the _entire world,_ call Crescent Rose, _her baby,_ one of the most dangerous weapons ever created…

It was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed.

“Well, one teacher in particular…” she elaborated, recalling precious one-on-one training sessions in Signal’s tiny gymnasium.

“I see,” remarked the older man, setting a plate of chocolate chip cookies onto the table. Conflicted between ogling the man in front of her and appeasing her infamous sweet tooth, her stomach eventually won out, and Ruby began scarfing down the baked goods with an almost Grimm-like ferocity. “It’s just that I’ve only seen one other scythe user of that skill before,” The headmaster continued, “A dusty old crow...”

“Oh, that’s my uncle!” Ruby said, her mouth still full. She swallowed and continued. “Sorry. That’s my Uncle Qrow! He’s a teacher at Signal! I was complete _garbage_ before he took me under his wing. And now I’m all like, hi-ya! Wa-chow!”

“So I’ve noticed,” said the headmaster, setting his mug down and leaning towards her, “And what is an adorable little girl such as yourself doing at a school designed to train warriors?”

“Well… I want to be a huntress,” Ruby admitted.

“You want to slay monsters?”

“Yeah! I only have two more years left at Signal and then I’m going to apply to Beacon.” Ruby felt herself growing bolder, and the words began to tumble out of her mouth faster and faster. “You see, my sister’s starting there this year, and she’s trying to become a huntress, and I’m trying to become a huntress ‘cause I want to protect people. My parents always taught us to help others, so I thought, ‘Hey, I might as well make a career out of it!’ I mean, the police are alright, but huntsmen and huntresses are so much more romantic and exciting and cool and really, gosh, you know!” There was a long pause.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the man.

“You’re Professor Ozpin,” Ruby answered. “You’re the headmaster at Beacon.”

Ozpin smiled. “Hello.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ruby replied.

“You want to come to my school?” Ozpin asked.

“More than anything,” Ruby responded earnestly.

Ozpin turned to look at the purple-caped huntress, who had been listening silently to the entire exchange. She let out a huff of disapproval, and the old headmaster turned back to Ruby. “Well, okay.”

Ruby’s jaw dropped.

 

* * *

  
Meanwhile, several hundred trillion kilometers away, on a world that is best left unnamed, there lies a box canyon named “Valhalla.” It was named by settlers almost a century and a half ago, when they recognized it as one of the few places of natural beauty on the entire planet, which otherwise looked like someone had wanted to see how many inhospitable environments they could cram onto a single globe. The canyon was currently occupied by a pair of military bases, although this description was stretching the truth quite a bit. Each base was little more than a concrete shack, with bunks, bathrooms, and not much else. It was in one of these “bases” that Private Michael J. Caboose currently sat, deep in thought.

Caboose was a part of Blue team, a super special military unit of people who wore blue space armor and waved blue flags. Caboose knew Blue team was special because he was the only person in it. Well, not really. There were other people on Blue team, but none of them were here right now. Like Griff’s sister, who was back in Blood Gulch, or stupid Tucker, who had gone off to play with aliens. Then there was Sheila, the nice tank lady that Caboose and his friends had turned into a spaceship. She was _sort of_ here, in that she was less than a minute’s walk from the base. However, she had been quiet for many weeks. Caboose assumed this meant she was sleeping, but he had a feeling that she would not be waking up again for a very long time. Lastly, there was Church, who was Caboose’s best friend. Church was _really_ not here right now, on account of being wiped out by an emp a couple of months ago. However, Caboose was currently working on rectifying this situation.

In front of him lay a bunch of parts he had scavenged from Sheila, as well as Tex’s old robot body. Tex was Church’s mean girlfriend who exploded last year while trying to steal stupid Tucker’s stupid alien baby. Caboose was glad she wasn’t here right now. She liked to do mean things, like punch people in their sleep. Lastly, and definitely most importantly, there was a memory unit, containing the AI “Epsilon.” Epsilon was Church’s memories, or rather the memories he _used_ to have before an evil scientist tortured him and sent him to live in Blood Gulch. With these pieces, Caboose hoped to build a new super best friend who would never, _ever_ have to leave. The only problem was that Caboose had no idea how he was supposed to put these pieces together. He had tried using a blowtorch, but all that did was start a fire. He had tried using a _smaller_ blowtorch, but that had only started a smaller fire. This project of his was now in its second month, and Caboose was rapidly running out of ideas. And blowtorches.

A new idea formed in Caboose’s head. (This was quite a long process, and usually took several hours.) _Why not ask the Reds if_ they _can make me a best friend?_ The Reds lived at the other end of Valhalla canyon. They probably knew a lot more about building robots than Caboose, because their sergeant built them all the time. In fact, he had built Church’s original robot body after his human body had been destroyed by a runaway tank in a total accident that wasn’t Caboose’s fault at all! One of the people on Red team was even part robot! Another member of the Red team was _all_ robot!

It was settled. Caboose would go to Red base and ask them if they could make him a new robot who would be his best friend forever and ever. Scooping up Epsilon-Who-Was-Also-Church, he exited Blue base and began to make his way to the other end of the canyon.

* * *

 

_Thwack_

_  
_

_Thwack_

 

_Thwack_

The sound of a titanium helmet colliding with super-dense sandstone echoed throughout the dark vaults of the desert temple, disturbing Medical Super Private First Class Frank “Doc” Dufresne from his daily meditation. While the absence of any sort of light inside the temple prevented him from seeing the source of the noise, Doc already knew which of the two men under his command was the culprit. “Tucker, you should really stop banging your head against the wall like that. You might get a concussion,” he shouted, in the general direction of the other soldier.

“That’s the fucking point!” came the reply from Private First Class Lavernius Tucker. Doc sighed. As the primary medical officer, it was his responsibility to monitor the average morale of the unit. This  had tanked in the past couple months, primarily due to Tucker’s pessimism. Of course, the only reason said pessimism was having such a large impact was because the unit had shrunk from 30 people to 3.

The excavation of the temple had been a combined effort between some military program and a fringe alien cult whose ancestors had built the place. The military was only after a specific artifact, and the aliens were happy to take everything else. Doc had been amazed at how, just over a year after the aliens had stopped trying to wipe humanity from the galaxy, the two races were already learning to work together. Using Tucker, who was a member of both the military and the alien cult, as a vehicle for inter-species communication, the researchers had managed to get the doors of the temple open and find the artifact. However, collaboration was a double edged sword.

No sooner had the dig team found the artifact than they came under attack by a joint force of human bandits and alien religious extremists. While the dig team had a substantial security force, the human portion consisted of red and blue soldiers from outposts similar to Blood Gulch and Valhalla, which meant that they were all idiots. The cultists, while fierce fighters, were woefully under equipped. The result was a complete massacre. Doc and his friends managed to grab the artifact and retreat inside the temple, locking themselves in. A frantic call to command was met only with a vague assertion that help was on the way, followed by a massive transfer of heavily encrypted files into Doc’s data storage unit along with a set of orders. Doc tried to call for clarification, but by then the pirates had set up a radio jammer and his pleas were only met with static.

The artifact that they had worked so hard to uncover (a strange metal orb thing roughly the size of a cantaloupe) sat beside Doc, stashed away haphazardly in a drawstring sports bag. The three soldiers had been under siege for nearly ninety days now, and they were running low on food and water. Doc was beginning to worry

“Wow, Tucker!” echoed the ever-optimistic voice of Private Franklin Delano Donut, the only surviving member of the security detail and the third member of their little group, “You’ve probably given head to almost every inch of the walls at this point!” Tucker’s only response was a weak groan, and the continuation of his quest for severe cranial trauma.

_Thwack_

 

_Thwack_

 

_Thwack_

 

_Click_

 

_Whirrrrrrrrrrr…._

 

“What the fuck is this?”


	2. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made, tunnels are explored, and some girls go to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was being clever with the title of this fic (Mixed Colors), but Prim_the_Amazing has a RvB fanfic titled "Mixing Colors" that's older than mine. In the interest of avoiding confusion, this fic shall henceforth be known as "Palette Swap"

“Oh, I can’t believe my baby sister is going to Beacon with me! This is the best day ever!”

 

Yang Xiao Long, age 17, currently had her little sister trapped in a massive bear hug as the ferry carrying new students lifted off from Vale. The news had shocked the entire family, especially their father, who’d gone into full-blown panic mode when Ruby didn’t make the nine o’clock curfew. He certainly wasn’t expecting her to show up two hours later with Crescent Rose in one hand and a scholarship in the other. While Yang was, of course, happy for her sister’s success, she also appreciated how the frantic, last-minute arrangements required to prepare Ruby for Beacon quickly shut down any questions their father had about where  _ Yang  _ had been that night. 

 

“Please stop,” moaned Ruby, gasping for air.

 

“But I’m so proud of you!” Yang exclaimed, reluctantly releasing her sister from the hug.

 

“Really, sis, it was nothing,” Ruby replied, attempting to deflect Yang’s attention elsewhere. Yang, however, was having none of that. 

 

“What do you mean? It was incredible!” she said, “Everyone at Beacon is going to think you’re the bee’s knees!”

 

“I don’t want to be the ‘bee’s knees,’ Okay?” Ruby exclaimed, “I don’t want to be any kind of knees! I just want to be a normal girl with normal knees.” This caused Yang’s big sister senses to tingle. When Ruby used that tone it signaled that she was under a lot of stress and as such had little patience for Yang’s shenanigans. 

 

‘What’s with you?” Yang asked her sister, “Aren’t you excited?”

 

“Of course I’m excited… I just…” Ruby let out a sigh. “I got moved ahead  _ two years _ . I don’t want people to think I’m special or anything.”

 

“But you  _ are  _ special,” Yang told her sister, throwing an arm over Ruby’s shoulders. The ferry grew quiet, the only sounds being the gentle hum of the Dust engines and the VNN newscast displayed on an onboard television.

 

“ _...the robbery was lead by nefarious criminal Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa.” _

 

_ “Thank you, Cyril. In other news, yesterday’s Faunus civil rights protest turned dark when members of the White Fang disrupted the ceremony. The once peaceful organization has now disrupted…” _

 

There was a chime, and the face of VNN news anchor Lisa Lavender was replaced by a holographic recording of a stern-faced woman in a purple cape whom Yang didn’t recognize. “ _ Hello, and welcome to Beacon,”  _ she said.

 

“Who’s that?” Yang wondered aloud.

 

_ “My name is Glynda Goodwitch.” _

 

“Oh,” said Yang. She turned to Ruby, who was toying with the hem of her cloak, and gave her a nudge. Ruby’s eyes shot up to the recording, and Yang could see a flash of recognition cross her sister’s silvery irises.

 

“ _ You are among a privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy! Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future huntsmen and huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it. You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and training you need to protect this world.”  _ The recording ended and the newscast resumed, in the middle of a science interview regarding the shift of several large chunks of moon and their effects on the weather. As the airship cleared the city and rose over Vale Sound, Ruby dashed over to the window.

 

“Oh wow, you can see Signal from up here!” she cried, “I guess home isn’t too far after all!” Yang wandered over, and indeed, the island of Patch was plainly visible as a green mound just beyond a rather morbidly named spit of sand known as Dead Man’s Bank. In the past, sailors used a lighthouse on Patch to guide their way past this and many other treacherous rocks and sandbars which littered the entrances to the Sound. It was from this lighthouse that Signal School, whose well-tended lawns Yang could just barely make out in the distance, drew its name.

 

Yang decided that now was the time to look towards the future, and shifted her gaze to the great grey cliffs of Beacon Academy, just now coming into view. “Beacon’s our home now,” she said. 

 

Her brief moment of serenity was shattered when one of her fellow students rushed past, retching onto the floor. “Well… I guess the view isn’t for everyone,” Yang said, rolling her eyes.

 

“It was a nice moment while it lasted,” her little sister remarked. “I wonder who we’re gonna meet! I just hope they’re better than Vomit Boy.” 

 

_ “Agreed,”  _ thought Yang.

 

“Oh Yang, gross! You have vomit on your shoe!” Yang looked down, and indeed, her boots were covered in brownish bile. Suddenly, it was as if she was twelve years old again.

 

“Gross!” she screamed and waved her foot around in an attempt to shake some of the more…  _ solid _ bits off. Ruby shrieked in terror.

 

“Get away from me!” she shouted, attempting to put as much distance between herself and the offending puddle as possible. 

 

The rest of the journey occurred mostly without incident, aside from a few more people needing to wipe off their shoes courtesy of Vomit Boy. As Yang and her sister exited the airship alongside the other students, they could see him bent over a trash can, disgorging whatever he had left in his stomach. 

 

Beacon Academy stretched out before them. It looked almost like a palace, with many large, cathedral-like buildings and towers connected by flying buttresses. At the center of it all rose the Cross Continental Transmission tower, a large marble structure almost 50 stories tall which allowed for instant communication between Vale and any of the other kingdoms. “Wow, the view from Vale’s got nothing on this!” Yang exclaimed. Ruby, however, wasn’t interested in the architecture.

 

“Omigosh, sis!” she gushed, “That kid’s got a collapsible staff! And  _ she’s  _ got a fire sword!” Yang gave her sister’s cape a good yank, bringing her down from armament-fueled euphoria. 

 

“Easy there, little sister. They’re just weapons!” Yang said. She realized from the shocked look on her little sibling’s face that she’d just committed heresy of the highest order against the Church of Ruby Rose.

 

“JUST weapons?” Ruby shouted back, “They’re an extension of ourselves! They’re a part of us! Oh they’re  _ so  _ cool!”

 

“Well why can’t you just swoon over your own weapon? Aren’t you happy with it?”

 

Ruby unsheathed her creation, the spring loaded blade almost taking a passing student’s eye out. “Of course I’m happy with Crescent Rose!” she insisted, “I just really like seeing new ones. It’s like meeting new people, but better…”

 

Yang chuckled, yanking her little sister’s hood down over her eyes. “Ruby, come on, why don’t you go try and make some friends of your own?” she suggested.

 

Ruby lifted her hood. “But… why would I need friends if I have you?” she asked.

 

“Well…” Yang stammered. She really didn’t feel like having this conversation now, and began searching desperately for an exit. She found one in the form of a group of people waving at her to come over. “Actually,” she told Ruby hurriedly, “my friends are here. Gotta go catch up. Kay, see ya, bye!”

 

Yang quickly strode over to join her rescuers, a clique from Signal that Yang had come to collectively know as the Spice Girls. “Thanks for that,” she said, addressing the ringleader: a tall, dusky-skinned girl by the name of Pepper.

 

“Always a pleasure,” Pepper responded. “Little sister ‘cramping your style?’”

 

“Something like that.” Yang answered. “ _ I’m happy she got into Beacon and everything, but that girl really needs to make some friends,”  _ she added mentally. Ruby, in addition to being quite eccentric, was also criminally shy. Their dad often said that their mom was the same way when they first met, which Yang had a hard time believing. 

 

“I don’t blame you,” a short redhead named Saffron chimed in, “your sister’s weird.”

 

The group came to a stumbling halt. If looks could kill, Yang would be slowly roasting Saffron on a spit over an open flame.

 

“ _This is why Yang never hangs out with us_ ,” one of the Spice Girls said in a stage whisper.

 

Luckily for young Saffron, Yang felt it was too early in the afternoon for handing out beatings, and instead chose to storm off angrily on her own. After stepping into a fountain to clean the last remnants of Vomit Boy’s lunch off of her boots, she followed the rest of the students through some massive doors and halls into a large auditorium. Although the great chamber was packed with students, Yang managed to find a bubble of space and flagged down her sister, who was talking to Vomit Boy himself. “Ruby! Over here!” she shouted, “I saved you a spot!” Ruby finished whatever conversation she was having and wandered over.  “How’s your first day going, little sister?” The older girl asked.

 

“You mean since you  _ ditched  _ me and I  _ exploded? _ ” Ruby answered angrily. Yang took a step back.

 

“Yikes! Meltdown already?”

 

“No,” Ruby shouted, “I literally exploded a hole in front of the school! And there was some fire, and I think some ice…?

 

“Are you being sarcastic?” Yang asked. It was hard to tell with Ruby.

 

“I wish!” exclaimed Ruby, her voice moving into a pitch usually used to describe to their father What Uncle Qrow Had Done This Time. “I tripped over some crabby girl’s luggage, and then she yelled at me, and then I sneezed, and then I  _ exploded,  _ and then she yelled at me again, and I felt really,  _ really  _ bad, and I just wanted her to stop yelling at me!”

 

“YOU!” someone shouted.

 

“Oh, God, it’s happening again!” Ruby screamed, and jumped a full three feet into the air. Yang was forced to catch her sister, bridal style, to prevent her from landing on her butt. She turned to see a girl in a white dress storming over to the pair.

 

“You’re lucky we weren’t blown off the side of the cliff!” shouted the newcomer.

 

“Oh my God, you really exploded,” said Yang. She supposed it was ironic, given her own track record when it came to property damage, that Ruby had already blown something up before she herself had the chance to punch through any walls. “ _ Does that actually count as irony though?”  _ Yang mused.

 

“It was an accident,” Ruby said. Yang silently let her down, still pondering the true definition of irony, and, (more importantly) wondering when she would have the chance to call something iron-ic or iron-y. “It was an accident!” Ruby repeated, to the crabby girl this time. The crabby girl’s only response was to shove a pamphlet into Ruby’s face. “What’s this?” Ruby asked.

 

“The Schnee dust company is not responsible for any injuries or damages…” the crabby girl began, launching into what sounded like a disclaimer. As the girl continued to talk, Yang stopped thinking about puns and took stock of the stranger. She seemed to exude an aura of wealth and privilege. While the Xiao Long family was comfortably well-off, what with their dad’s teaching salary and whatever it was that Uncle Qrow did for a living, this girl was  _ loaded _ .

 

The rich girl finished her speech, and, realizing that Ruby hadn’t understood a single word of it, sighed. “You really wanna start making this up to me?” she asked.

 

“Absolutely?” Ruby responded hesitantly. The rich girl handed her the pamphlet.

 

“Read this and don’t ever speak to me again.”

 

Yang decided that now was the time to step in. “Look,” she said, “uh, it looks like you two just got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t you start over and try to be friends, okay?”

 

“Yeah!” her little sister exclaimed, shoving the pamphlet into her pocket, “Great idea, sis!” She turned to the rich girl. “Hello Weiss! I’m Ruby! Wanna hang out? We can go shopping for school supplies!”

 

_ “Weiss, huh. What a fitting name,”  _ thought Yang.

 

“Yeah!” replied Weiss, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “And we can paint our nails and try on clothes and talk about cute boys, like tall, blond and scraggly over there!” She pointed at Vomit Boy, who stopped in his tracks. The sarcasm, to Yang’s dismay, went right over her little sister’s head.

 

“Wow, really?” asked Ruby. Yang facepalmed internally.

 

“No,” said Weiss, in the coldest, harshest way imaginable, before storming off. The auditorium was suddenly filled by the shrill whine of microphone feedback. The girls turned to the stage as the headmaster of Beacon, Professor Ozpin, prepared to give a speech.

 

“I’ll… keep this brief,” Ozpin began. “You have traveled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step.”

 

The speech was, indeed, brief. Already the woman known as Goodwitch was stepping up to the microphone, as Ozpin exited stage left. “You will gather in the ballroom tonight; Tomorrow, your initiation begins. Be ready. You are dismissed.”

 

“He seemed kind of… off,” Yang commented. Her sister agreed.

 

“It’s almost like he wasn’t even there,” she said.

 

With the speech over, the students were instructed to drop off their weapons with the armoury, (which Ruby did with much reluctance) before being given the rest of the afternoon to familiarize themselves with the campus. Ruby, of course, had immediately dragged Yang over to the forge, to ensure that the facilities would be proper for “taking care of her baby.” Along the way Yang was introduced to Jaune “Vomit Boy” Arc. Sensing another opportunity for Ruby to make a friend, Yang ditched her sister again and decided to check out the garage. Maybe there would be a place to stash her precious Bumblebee on the school grounds!

 

To Yang’s eternal disappointment, Beacon’s “garage” turned out to be a dilapidated structure of poured concrete, with broken windows and a few rusting golf carts sitting outside. Her heart sank. 

 

“It’s a shame, isn’t it,” said a deep voice. Yang turned to find a short, mustachioed man in a mahogany suit standing beside her. He extended his hand, which Yang took, receiving a vigorous shake. “Professor Peter Port, at your service. I’ll be your Grimm studies teacher. You  _ are  _ one of the new students, I presume?” Yang nodded. “Splendid!” said Professor Port. “I take it you, too are disappointed by our motor pool, or lack thereof?”

 

“Yeah,” said Yang. “I was kinda hoping there would be a place to store my motorcycle. Why’s it such a dump?”

“Oh, all our trained mechanics quit years ago,” responded Port, “I do believe they were complaining about ‘reckless student behavior’ or some other sort of bother. We would just hire new ones, but I’m afraid it just isn’t in the budget nowadays…” The old man pulled a large pocket watch out of his coat and flicked it open. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, “Look at the time! I’m afraid I must be going now, but it most certainly has been a pleasure, Ms…?” 

 

“Yang,” Yang answered, “Yang Xiao Long.” Port gasped.

 

“Xiao Long… wait, you’re Tai’s girl, aren’t you?” 

 

“Yep. That’s me…” Yang said weakly. She’d known, of course, that her parents had both attended Beacon, but she hadn’t expected anyone to  _ remember  _ them. Hopefully, those who did would avoid asking too many questions. Family matters were a very sensitive subject in the Xiao Long household, and there were still secrets even  _ Ruby _ didn’t know about.

 

Port gave her hand another firm shake. “Well, Ms. Xiao Long, allow me to be the first to personally welcome you to Beacon Academy. I’ll see you again on Friday, when classes begin. Toodle-loo!” 

 

The old man trundled off, leaving Yang alone with the decaying garage. She noticed the sun beginning to sink below the horizon, and decided it was time to regroup with her sister in the ballroom.

 

As Yang entered, it became clear that the students weren’t being assigned dorms yet. There were sleeping bags lined up in neat rows all along the floor, and several students were already in their pajamas. Yang popped into a bathroom to change before locating Ruby, who was seated at the far end of the room, furiously scribbling into a notebook. ‘It’s like a big slumber party!” said Yang, plopping down next to her sister.

 

“I don’t think Dad would approve of all the boys,” Ruby replied, not even looking up from her journal.

 

“I know I do,” said Yang, glancing around at the fine hunks of meat on display. Jaune, of course, didn’t fall into this category. She groaned. One does not simply unsee a seventeen year-old boy walking around in _feetie_ _pajamas_. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at Ruby’s journal.

 

“Just a letter to the gang back at Signal. I promised to tell them about Beacon and how things are going.”

 

“Aw, that’s so  _ cuuute _ !” gushed Yang, before receiving a pillow to the face courtesy of her sibling.

 

“Shut up! I didn’t get to take my friends with me to school! It’s weird not knowing anyone here!”

 

“What about Jaune?” Yang asked, “He’s… nice! There you go! Plus one friend! That’s a hundred percent increase!” 

 

Ruby turned over on her back. “Pretty sure Weiss counts as a negative friend. Back to zero…” she said gloomily.

 

“There’s no such thing as negative friends!” Yang insisted. “You just made one friend and one enemy!” Having an enemy, in Yang’s book, was just like having a friend who you could beat the stuffing out of regularly. “ _ Speaking of beatings, I really should remember to pay Saffron a visit…”  _ Yang noted, before another pillow hit her in the face. “Look, it’s only been one day,” she told her sister, “Trust me; You’ve got friends all around you. You just haven’t met them yet!”

 

Yang’s attempt to talk some sense into Ruby was interrupted by the sound of someone striking a match. They turned to the source of the noise: A girl with black hair and a bow lighting a candle. “That girl…” Ruby muttered.

 

“You know her?” 

 

“Not really. She saw what happened this morning, but left before I could say anything.”

 

“Well, now’s your chance!” exclaimed Yang, grabbing Ruby’s arm and dragging her towards the girl with the bow, who was now reading a book. She looked up as they approached.

 

“Hel-loooo!” sang Yang, Ruby still struggling in her grip, “I believe you two may know each other?” 

 

Bow Girl’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you… that girl that exploded?” she asked.

 

“Uh, yeah!” Ruby responded, “My name’s Ruby! But you can call me Crater-” she stopped. “Actually, you can just call me Ruby.”

 

“Okay,” Bow Girl replied, eyes returning to her book.

 

“ _ This is going nowhere fast,”  _ Yang thought. She turned to her sister. “What are you doing _?”  _ she whispered.

 

_“_ I don’t know, _”_ Ruby responded. “Help me!”

 

It looked like, for the umpteenth time, Yang would have to take things into her own hands. “Sooo… what’s your name?” she asked Bow Girl.

 

Bow Girl sighed. “Blake,” she said, not even bothering to make eye contact this time.

 

“Well, Blake, I’m Yang, Ruby’s older sister! I like your bow.”

 

“Thanks,” replied Blake, irritation clear in her voice. Yang, however, refused to back down.

 

“It goes great with your... pajamas!” she added.

 

“Right…” Blake said. It was becoming exceedingly obvious that she wasn’t exactly interested in getting to know others.

 

Yang began to grow desperate. “Nice night, don’t you think?” she asked, in a final effort to get  _ any _ sort of conversation out of the other girl.

 

“Yes, it’s lovely!” answered Blake, exasperated. “Almost as lovely as this book. That I will continue to read. As soon as you two leave.”

 

With introductions, compliments and even  _ discussing the weather _ all having failed, Yang was officially out of conversation starters. She hated to admit it, but it was time to throw the towel. “Yeah, this girl’s a lost cause,” she told Ruby, and turned to leave. Ruby, however, wasn’t known for her firm grasp of social cues.

 

“What’s it about?” she asked Blake. 

 

“Huh?” asked Blake, clearly surprised by the question. 

 

“Your book,” clarified Ruby, “does it have a name?”

 

“Well, i-it’s about a man with two souls, each fighting for control of his body,” replied Blake.

 

“Oh, yeaah… that’s real lovely!” Yang lied through clenched teeth. Unlike her little sister, Yang never really liked literature. After all, where was the the fun in reading about fake people having fake adventures when there were so many real adventures to be had?

 

“I love books,” continued Ruby, “Yang used to read to me every night before bed. Stories of heroes and monsters… they’re one of the reasons I want to be a huntress!”

 

“And why is that?” Blake scoffed, “Hoping you’ll live happily ever after?”

 

“Well, I’m hoping we all will,” Ruby answered, “As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books… someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn’t protect themselves!”

 

“That’s… very ambitious for a child,” Blake commented. She frowned. “Unfortunately, the real world isn’t the same as a fairy tale.”

 

“ _ Okay, what crawled up your butt and died?”  _ wondered Yang.

 

“Well that’s why we’re here!” said Ruby, “To make it better!” 

 

“I’m so proud of my baby sister!” squealed Yang, scooping Ruby up in another massive bear hug. She was just so  _ adorable _ when she was being inspirational.

 

“Cut it out!” yelled Ruby, attempting to secure her release by kicking Yang repeatedly in the shins. Yang only responded by tightening her grip, and a full-blown scuffle ensued.

 

“What in the world is going on over here?” yelled a familiar voice. “Don’t you realize some of us are trying to sleep?”

 

Yang unceremoniously dumped her sister on her butt and turned to meet the incensed glare of a very annoyed Weiss. “Oh, not you again!” they exclaimed in unison.

 

“Shh!” said Ruby, getting to her feet, “Guys, she’s right!  People are trying to sleep!”

 

“Oh,  _ now _ you’re on my side!” said Weiss.

 

“I was always on your side!”

 

“Yeah, what’s your problem with my sister?” Yang asked, “She’s only trying to be nice!”

 

“She’s a hazard to my health!”

 

The feud would’ve continued all night had it not been for Blake, who chose to cut the argument short by blowing out her candle and plunging the ballroom into darkness. Grumbling, the three teens returned to their respective sleeping bags, wondering what awaited them the next day.

 

* * *

  
  


Sergeant Sarge of the United Nations Space Corps stared at the two men in front of him, one of whom fit the loosest possible description of “man” known to, well, man. (He still didn’t see how Minor Junior Private Dexter Grif, Negative First Class, could possibly be a product of the human race.) Together they formed the Red Team, an elite military task force with one goal: the elimination of the Blue Menace. The Blues were a group of soulless, alien-sympathizing, insurrectionist bastards who threatened everything humanity stood for; It was the solemn duty of the Reds to defend Earth and her colonies from these traitorous dirtbags who would see their way of life burned in evil blue fire. However, as of late, their operations had hit a snag. Thus, with the team assembled, Sarge began his address.

 

“Men! And Grif! Our operations have hit a snag!”

 

“What could it possibly be this time?” moaned Grif, polluting the canyon with his very presence. Sarge raised his trusty M45 shotgun, which had served him well for over two decades, and pointed it at Grif. Grif’s face was Sarge’s second-favorite place to point his shotgun, just above alien scum and just below dirty Blues.

 

“What was that, Private?” barked Sarge, his finger hovering over the trigger. All it would take was one twitch of his lumbrical muscle and Grif would be gone forever, roasting in Blue Hell or wherever turds went when they died. However, Sarge knew that blowing Grif’s disgusting face off now meant he couldn’t be used as a meat shield later. So for the time being, Sarge held his fire. 

 

“What could it possibly be this time,  _ sir,”  _ Grif responded. His authority confirmed, Sarge grudgingly lowered his weapon.

 

“That’s better!” he said. “Now, as you know, we are closer than ever before to our final victory against those dirty Blues!”

 

Private First Class Dick Simmons spoke up. “Sir, it’s an honor to have shared this triumph with you.” Simmons had all the qualities of a good soldier; he was dependable, loyal, and, (most importantly) usually agreed with whatever Sarge was saying.  

 

“Can it Private, the war ain’t over yet,” answered Sarge. Simmons hung his head.

 

“We have run into a slight problem!” Sarge continued, “Apparently, the folks at command have no record of the Blues in their database!” 

 

“Wait, weren’t we the ones who deleted all those files in the first place,” asked Simmons, “because you said that erasing the Blues from command’s records was just like erasing them from existence, and would be the ultimate victory?”

 

“You can’t prove that!” answered Sarge. “Anyway, as I’m sure you are both aware, the most important part of winning is being able to take credit for your victory! And then rubbing it in the face of all your peers! And as I’m  _ also _ sure you are both aware, we can’t take credit for killing people who don’t exist! Luckily, I have a plan!”

 

Grif groaned. “Does the plan involve me getting hurt or killed?” he asked.

 

“Unfortunately, no!” Sarge answered. “However, there’s always room for improvement! No, our plan is to go to command and put the Blues back in the database!”

 

“How are we even going to get there?” Simmons asked, “Command is thousands of miles away!”

 

“That’s the genius part of my plan!” responded Sarge, “If you would both follow me…”

 

Sarge led his men around the side of Red base, where the squad’s utility droid, Lopez, stood in front of a large disk with a bunch of wires sticking out of it. “Men, allow me to introduce the Physical Location Object Transfer Device! This little thing is capable of sending us anywhere in the universe!” 

 

“SI TENGO SUERTE, SE ROMPERÁ Y NOS MATARÁ A TODOS,”  added Lopez, “EL INFIERNO DIGITAL SERÍA PREFERIBLE A PASAR MÁS TIEMPO CON USTEDES IDIOTAS.” 

 

“You’re right, Lopez, this sort of technology  _ is _ millenia ahead of its time,” Sarge agreed.

 

“TE ODIO,” affirmed Lopez.

 

“Now, does anyone have any questions?” asked Sarge.

 

“Um, yes, Mr. Sergeant sir, I have a question!” replied Caboose. 

 

There was a chorus of clicks as four guns were instinctively raised to meet this new threat.  _ “How did a dirty Blue manage to slip past all my elaborate defense systems?”  _ wondered Sarge. 

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Simmons, shrilly.

 

“Yeeeah, I came over to ask your Sargeant to build Church a new body,” Caboose said, gesturing to the Epsilon unit which lay at his feet. 

 

“YOU  _ KEPT _ THAT?” Simmons screeched, his tone of voice signalling an imminent panic attack. 

 

“So what if he still has the giant purple sesame seed?” said Grif, “It’s not like anybody’s gonna come looking for it. All the freelancers are in prison, remember?” (The freelancers were a gang of dangerous mercenaries who used fancy gadgets and computers to aid them in battle. However, it seemed to Sarge that all they ever did was murder each other over said gadgets in what was probably the galaxy’s most violent dick-measuring contest.)

 

“Yes, but in exchange for these new bases, and, you know,  _ not being court martialed,  _ we had to hand over all the equipment we stole from them to command!” Simmons explained.

 

“So?”

 

“ _ That includes AIs!” _

 

_ “ _ Oh.”

 

“I reeeally don’t understand what you guys are talking about right now,” said Caboose. “Is it about me? I like when people talk about me. Anyway,” he continued, “It’d be super awesome if you said yes to the robot thing, ‘cause then I’d have a cool new best friend. And you guys would have another Blue to fight!”

 

“You know what?” said Sarge, lowering his shotgun, “The Blue may actually have a point. An increase in our enemy’s numbers would make our conflict seem more important!”

 

“O PODRÍAMOS SIMPLEMENTE MATARLO AHORA,” Lopez suggested, “Y TERMINA CON LA FARSA QUE ES ESTA GUERRA.” 

 

“You’re right, Lopez!” Sarge replied. “Bringing a Blue along with us to command would certainly prove their existence to our superiors, and thus aid our efforts in getting them back into the database!” He turned to Caboose. “Hear that, Blue? You’re coming with us to command!”

 

“Oh boy!” said Caboose excitedly, “I love road trips!”

 

“Lopez, activate the PLOT device!”

 

“SÍ, SEÑOR” responded Lopez. The brown android pessed a switch with his foot, and everything went white.

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Well, this is certainly exciting,” remarked Donut. The three besieged soldiers were currently standing around a narrow opening that had appeared in the temple wall, beyond which lay a small, rectangular chamber. The chamber was illuminated by a dim red light, and for the first time in almost three months the trio could actually see each others faces, or rather faceplates. This, Donut mused, was for the best. “ _ We probably all look ghastly under there, anyways,”  _ he thought.

 

“So, what do you guys think it is?” asked Doc.

 

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” said Tucker. “I’d ask the aliens, but they’re all dead.”

 

Donut walked into the small space and turned around. A cute pair of buttons on the wall next to the exit caught his attention. “Guys, I think this is an elevator,” he said.

 

“How come?” asked Doc.

 

“Buttons. See?”

 

The other two soldiers piled into the chamber to get a good look at the buttons. It was a tight squeeze, but Donut didn’t mind. “Wanna see where it goes?” he asked. 

 

“I don’t know…” replied Doc, “Who knows where we’d end up?”

 

“I say fuck it,” said Tucker, “can’t be worse than starving to death back here.”

 

“Oh, alright,” Doc relented, “just let me grab the artifact first.” He vanished into the inky darkness of the temple, returning two minutes later with the ball sack slung over his shoulder. Donut tapped the button on the bottom, and the wall slid closed, sealing them in the small chamber.

 

A catchy jingle began to play as the elevator slid down its shaft. Donut couldn’t resist humming along. It seemed that even in ancient times, people knew the perfect tunes to make travelling between floors all the more enjoyable. 

 

The elevator finally came to a stop after nearly twenty seconds. “Wow, we must have gone really deep!” Donut exclaimed, as the trio stepped out into some sort of large atrium. The whole place looked like it had been built by someone who had read several books on architecture, but lacked the materials to do the job properly. This resulted in columns and archways that would have looked very pleasing had they been made out of, say, marble as opposed to scrap metal. Red emergency lighting, the same sort that had filled the elevator, shone down from panels on the ceiling, making the room all the more distasteful. 

 

The room had only one obvious exit, a large opening in the wall behind a row of small booths. With nowhere else to go, the three space marines ventured forth, squeezing between the booths and continuing down the passage beyond.

 

“So,” asked Donut, feeling the need to start a conversation, “why were the aliens so interested in this place?”

 

“Oh, they were looking for some sort of superweapon,” said Tucker, “I think they were gonna use it to blow up High Charity.”

 

Doc stopped in his tracks. “What?”

 

“Oh, High Charity was this massive space city where the aliens had their capital,” Tucker explained.

 

“Why would the aliens want to blow up their own city?” asked Doc.

 

“Well, the cult didn’t really agree with the alien government that much. Especially on the whole ‘genocidal war against humans’ bit.”

 

“So they decided to blow the government up? Tucker, what you’re describing sounds an awful lot like terrorism.”

 

“Well, of course it does when you put it  _ that _ way,” Tucker replied, as the group resumed their advance down the corridor.

 

Silence fell over the passage. The only sounds Donut could hear were the hollow echo of boots against the steel floor and the gentle whistle of the wind.

 

_ “Wait a minute, wind?” _ Donut did a double take. “Everybody stop!” he shouted. The trio came to a halt, and the sound of footsteps ceased. “Do you hear that?” Donut asked his comrades.

 

“Is that wind?” asked Doc. “If it is, that means…”

 

“...there must be a way out!” finished Donut. The three troopers broke into a sprint towards the source of the noise. It grew steadily louder as they ran, until they turned a corner and came screeching to a stop.

 

They stared into the enormous cavern that lay before them.

 

“Holy shit,” said Tucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lopez translations:  
> SI TENGO SUERTE, SE ROMPERÁ Y NOS MATARÁ A TODOS. EL INFIERNO DIGITAL SERÍA PREFERIBLE A PASAR MÁS TIEMPO CON USTEDES IDIOTAS : If I'm lucky, it will break and kill us all. Digital hell would be preferable to spending more time with you idiots  
> TE ODIO: I hate you  
> O PODRÍAMOS SIMPLEMENTE MATARLO AHORA, Y TERMINA CON LA FARSA QUE ES ESTA GUERRA: Or we could just kill him now and end this farce of a war  
> SÍ, SEÑOR: Yes, sir.


	3. Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some teenagers are thrown off a cliff, Red team takes a walk, and a sleeping giant wakes.

“Ren. Ren. Ren. Ren. Ren? Ren.”

The familiar voice pierced through the vaults of sleep and tunneled its way into Lie Ren’s dreams, as it had done nearly every morning for the past ten years. 

“Ren. Ren. Ren. Ren. Hey Ren.” 

Ren slowly cracked open his eyes, revealing the face of his longtime friend Nora Valkyrie hovering above him. While any normal person waking up to find their field of vision blotted out by Nora’s manic stare would be forgiven for screaming, or perhaps attempting to summon the authorities, Ren was no normal person. In fact, waking up to anything else was a rare occurrence at this point. “Wake up, you lazy bum!” Nora shouted. Ren groaned as he sat up from the sleeping bag and stretched his arms. A good night’s rest, in his opinion, was the greatest reward life had to offer. 

“It’s morning, it’s morning, it’s morning, it’s morninnng!” Nora sang, as Ren rummaged through his duffel bag to find a toothbrush and toothpaste. Retrieving them, he headed for the bathrooms, Nora trailing behind him and going on about some dream she had last night where she was queen of Atlas and Ren was her robot butler. She continued her daily monologue as Ren brushed his teeth.

_ “I can’t believe we’ve been at Beacon for a full twenty-four hours! Not that I thought we’d get kicked out or anything, I mean, you’re the perfect student, and I’m, well… I’m  _ me!  _ But it’s just crazy, you know?” _

It was indeed amazing they were here at all. A pair of feral children couldn’t, in fact, just stroll into the greatest school on the planet and demand to be admitted, despite what Nora said. Although a stellar academic record wasn’t required, (Thank the gods for that. Not that Ren and Nora were unwilling to take classes, but good schools in Mistral, their homeland, were expensive) there were still the insanely difficult entrance exams. Ren and Nora had spent countless hours studying in libraries and using the public terminals there to take courses online. Having passed the exams with flying colors and receiving full scholarships, the duo was faced with the task of travelling eight thousand miles and entering a foreign country without any sort of passports or ID. Vale’s border security, however, turned out to be a complete joke, so actually getting to Beacon was easy. For now, at least, they were safe, as long as neither of them got arrested for anything.

Ren finished brushing his teeth, and, after rinsing his mouth out with water, went to put away the sleeping bag as instructed by the staff. It was a lot nicer than the ones he and Nora owned. Then again, anything he and Nora owned was bought cheap, or in extreme cases, stolen. He shuddered. Several years ago, he’d fallen deathly ill with the flu, and being unable to afford medicine, Nora had resorted to robbing a pharmacy at gunpoint. Although her stunt saved Ren’s life, it had also forced the pair into hiding for several months. Ren still occasionally lay awake at night wondering if he would’ve done the same for Nora.

“ _ We’ve been friends for sooooooo long! What are the odds that we’d still be together, well, not ‘together-together...’ Not that I’m saying you aren’t handsome, you  _ are _ handsome, but that’d just be weird, right?” _

This was something Ren tried not to think about. Sure, he would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for Nora, but he usually put that down to hormones and not really knowing anyone else. That was another amazing thing about Beacon; he and Nora would finally get to know new people. After almost ten years of having no one but each other, this could be a breath of fresh air.

The pair were directed to make their way over to the cafeteria, where breakfast was being served. There were _pancakes_. Somewhere along the line, Nora had decided that pancakes were her favorite food of all time, and Ren had made it a point to prepare them on special occasions, such as her birthday, or the winter holiday. Their plates piled with fluffy discs, Ren and Nora sat down next to a short redhead girl in a purple blouse who had various bruises scattered across her body. “What happened?” Ren asked the stranger.

“I tripped,” said the redhead, her voice laced with enough venom to kill twenty people. Ren wisely chose to leave the girl alone and tuned back to Radio Nora as he dug into his breakfast. One would think that having a mouth stuffed full of pancake would shut her up for a bit, but the Valkyrie Motormouth did not stop for trivial things such as eating.

“ _ Right, what was I thinking? But still, I hope we end up on the same team together!  Oohhhh! We should come up with some sort of plan, to make sure we end up on the same team together! What if we bribe the headmaster? No, wait, he has the school…” _

_ “And we have no money,”  _ Ren thought, as he and Nora, having cleaned their plates, were instructed to head to the locker room to retrieve their weapons. A list on the wall directed Ren towards locker 343. 

Ren’s “StormFlower,” a pair of .45 automatic pistols with collapsible blades, was probably the most expensive thing he owned. Like most huntsmen and huntresses, he had designed it himself, and though it was not  _ nearly  _ as flashy as other people’s weapons, (like the giant folding scythe that little girl in the red hood was toting around) it did the job well enough. Nora continued to float around somewhere behind him as he made sure his clips were full. 

“ _ I know! We’ll have some sort of signal! Like a distress signal! A  _ secret _ signal so we can find each other in the forest! Can you imitate a sloth?” _

Ren turned, sliding his weapons up his sleeves and into a pair of specially sewn holsters. “I don’t think sloths make a lot of noise,” he said.

“That’s why it’s  _ perfect! _ ” insisted Nora, “No one will know we’re working together!”

Ren smiled, shutting his locker. “Come on Nora,” he said.

“Not together-together…” Nora giggled, as the pair made their way out of the locker room, stepping outside into the warm morning air. Ren closed his eyes and breathed in, taking in the scent of freshly cut grass and the melodic sound of birdsong. For a moment, he was one with the universe.

Nora Valkyrie, however, was to long silences what a serial arsonist is to that one house on the corner that’s been abandoned for years. 

“ _ So, what types of grimm do you think they have in the forest here? Maybe they have beringels! I don’t think we’ve ever killed a beringel before. Ooooh! Maybe we’ll run into a type of grimm nobody’s seen yet! Do you think that there’s such a thing as a sloth grimm?” _

Nora’s rambling was interrupted by a chime over the campus PA system. “ _ Would all first year students please report to Beacon Cliff for initiation? Again, all first-year students report to Beacon Cliff immediately.” _

 

While Beacon academy was surrounded by steep cliffs on almost all sides, only the cliff overlooking the Emerald Forest to the west carried the name “Beacon Cliff.” In Ren’s opinion, it certainly deserved the distinction. The cliff offered an unspoiled view of the forest below, all the way to the distant mountain chain known to Valians as The Backbone. The morning sun shone down on trees covered in sparkling dew, beautifully demonstrating how the forest had gotten its name. 

At the cliff, Ren, Nora and the other students were greeted by Professors Ozpin and Goodwitch and instructed to stand on a row of silver pads. Ren took the time to size up the rest of his fellow initiates.

Aside from him and Nora, there was that small girl with the scythe, along with a blonde girl whom Ren had heard was her sister. Additionally, there was Jaune, who was the boy who had been throwing up on the ferry, the Atlesian girl in the white dress who was clearly some oligarch’s daughter or something, and a quiet girl wearing a bow whose face seemed to be locked into a determined frown. Next in the group was a gang of boys who looked like they walked out of a bandit camp, a short girl in a yellow sari, and the girl in the purple blouse from breakfast. Standing at the very end of the row was another pair of girls, one in a black leather jacket and the other in a filthy tank top that may have once been green. Oh, and also there was Pyrrha Nikos, star athlete. Ren wondered what his mother would’ve said if she’d known he’d one day attend school alongside a celebrity.

Ozpin addressed the initiates. “For years, you have trained to become warriors,” he said, “and now, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest.”

“Now, I’m sure many of you have heard rumors about the assignments of ‘teams,’” Professor Goodwitch interjected, “Well, allow us to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be given teammates… today.” 

“These teammates will be with you for the rest of your time here at Beacon,” Ozpin continued. “So it is in your best interest to be paired with someone with whom you can work well. That being said, the first person you make eye contact with upon landing will be your partner for the next four years.”

“What?” Ren heard the scythe girl whimper.

“See?” Nora whispered excitedly, “I  _ told _ you!”

“After you’ve partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest,” Ozpin went on, “You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path, or you  _ will _ die. You will be monitored and graded through the duration of your initiation, but our staff will not intervene. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. Each pair must choose one and return to the top of the cliff. We will regard the item as well as your standing, and grade you appropriately. Are there any questions?”

Jaune raised his hand. “Yeah, um, Sir?”

“ _ Good _ !” said Ozpin, ignoring him. “Now, take your positions.”

Ren drew his weapons from his holsters. Nora crouched low. There was a large  _ ka-chunk _ from the end of the row, and the girl in the dirty clothes was launched skyward.

_ Ka-chunk.  _ The girl in the black jacket followed shortly after, a menacing flail in her left hand.

_ Ka-chunk _ . There went the girl with the bow, neatly lifting off with the grace of a panther.

“Uh, sir?” Ren could hear Jaune ask, “I’ve got, um… a question.”  _ Ka-chunk.  _ The Atlesian girl was flung into the air. “So this landing… strategy thing… uhhh, wha-what is it? You’re like, dropping us off or something?”

_ “Is he serious?” _ Ren wondered. He almost wanted to turn and shout at his fellow student to pay attention, but another  _ ka-chunk _ and a loud whoop from one of the bandit kids, who as of two seconds ago had been standing next to Nora, reminded him that he needed to be paying attention himself.

“No,” Ozpin responded, “You will be falling.”

“Oh, uh, I see… So, like, did you hand out parachutes for us?”

“No, you will be using your own landing strategy.”

_ Ka-chunk. _ Nora let out an excited squeal as she rocketed towards the horizon.

Ren noticed his muscles were tense, and took care to relax them. Jaune was still stammering in fear somewhere to his right, and Ren finally decided to just tune him out all together. He closed his eyes.

_ Ka-chunk. _

Lie Ren leapt into the sky.

* * *

 

“Oh god, I think I’m gonna lose my lunch...”

“MIS SENSORES AÚN SON CALIBRADORES (1)  .”

“It was a really good lunch, too…”

“Uhhhh, is it normal for all my inside bits to be on the outside…?”

“Men, what we are currently experiencing is merely a side effect of ripping a massive hole through the fabric of the universe. Take that, universe!”

“Ah, never mind. They’re back on the inside now. Juuust where I like them.”

Simmon’s ears were filled with the sounds of his squadmates’ complaints as the whiteness cleared from his vision. At times like these, he was glad his organs had been replaced with synthetic tubing. Whatever the others were going through right now certainly seemed unpleasant. With them all occupied, Simmons examined his surroundings. 

They were clearly in some type of forest. At least, that’s what it looked like to Simmons. Having spent the first eighteen years of his life without once leaving his hometown of New York City (population: 40 million) and having spent most of  _ that _ time either in school or on his computer, Simmons had never really been to a forest before. He vaguely remembered visiting Central Park once when he was, like, six or something, back when his father was still certain little Richard Simmons was going to become a pro football star.

Repressed childhood memories aside, Simmons couldn’t shake the feeling that he was out of place. He supposed that after almost four years of touring the waterlogged jungles, baking deserts, and freezing glaciers of the Planet Which Shall Remain Unnamed, any environment this mundane and hospitable just seemed weird. His boots crunching on leaf litter, he walked over to a tree and ran his armoured hand down the trunk, just to make sure that it was, in fact, a real tree. His sensory exploration was interrupted, however, by the sound of Grif vomiting on to the forest floor. He turned to see his friend sobbing into a puddle of his own bile. “Grif, are you seriously crying over losing food you already ate?” he asked.

“You don’t understaaaand,” whined Grif, looking up at Simmons. “This lunch was special!”

“What could have possibly made this lunch more special than the five other lunches you had today?” asked Simmons. 

“It was Domino’s Pizza!”

“Where the fuck did you get Domino’s? Our base is three thousand miles away from the nearest settlement!” 

“I paid the delivery guy two grand to fly ‘em out from Turf.” (Turf was the PWRSU’s largest city, with a population of around 800,000. Like most of the planet, it was generally regarded as a shit place to live.)

“You paid some guy a month’s salary just so you could have a pizza?”

“First, of all, it was five pizzas. Second of all, it was worth it,” Grif said, turning to stare longingly at the pile of half-digested deep dish at his feet. “At least until five minutes ago. Speaking of Turf, isn’t that where they moved our command to after the whole freelancer business? Why aren’t we there?”

“Wow, Grif,” said Simmons, “I’m impressed. You actually managed to remember a detail. I’m going to make a note of it in my logs, so we can remember this defining moment of your career.”

“Sarge, permission to shoot Simmons for being a smartass.”

“Permission denied. Now gather ‘round, men. I’m calling a staff meeting!” 

Grif shrugged. “Worth a shot,” he said, jamming his helmet back on. Red Team coalesced into a loose semicircle in front of their commanding officer.

“Men, we have suffered another minor setback!”

“¿NO DICES?( 2) ” asked Lopez.

“I enjoy your optimism, Lopez, but save the jokes for later,” Sarge replied. “Now, as some of you may have realized, we are  _ not  _ standing in the city of Turf right now! Unless they have some sort of massive park…”

Simmons, detecting a chance to impress a superior, decided to help out. “Sir, Turf has a notably dry climate, and experiences severe dust storms on a weekly basis. I find it highly doubtful that any forest of this magnitude would be able to survive in such conditions.” He held his breath.  _ “Will Sarge thank me for this useful information? Will he call me a valuable member of the team? Will he-” _

“Simmons, I don’t recall asking you for a weather report.”

Simmons bowed his head in defeat. One day, Sarge would appreciate him for his intellect. “ _ Nerd,”  _ he heard Grif mutter under his breath.

“Anyways,” Sarge resumed, “I believe that I may have made some slight miscalculations, and we might have overshot our destination by a little bit.”

“¿QUÉ SIGNIFICA, ‘USTED DESCALCULÓ?’” exclaimed Lopez, “¡NUNCA CALCULASTE NADA! ¡SOLAMENTE ME HICIERON PRESIONAR UN BOTÓN Y ESPERAR QUE EL DISPOSITIVO LO TOME MÁLTICAMENTE DONDE QUERÍA IR! ¡PODRÍAMOS ESTAR EN CUALQUIER LUGAR EN EL UNIVERSO AHORA MISMO! ¡DE HECHO, USTED ES SUERTE QUE NO TELEPORTAMOS EN ESPACIO PROFUNDO, O EL CENTRO DE UN SOL!( 3) ”

“I’m afraid you’re absolutely correct, Lopez,” Sarge said solemnly.

“¿DE VERDAD?( 4) ” asked his robotic creation.

“I hate to say this, but we don’t have any other options,” Sarge said, easing his helmet off his head, revealing his gaunt face. His eyes were filled with regret. “Men, we might have some walking ahead of us.”

“POR SUPUESTO. ¿POR QUÉ ME MOLESTO?( 5) ” said Lopez.

Simmons was shocked. Red Team?  _ Walking? _ This was unheard of! Grif wasn’t taking it too well either. “Simmons, you’re smart, right?” he asked desperately, “Can’t you and Lopez build some bikes out of sticks or something?”

“I-” 

“Private Grif, I’m sorry, but there’s just no other way,” Sarge interrupted. “Maybe we’ll find a bear or a deer or something, and then we can ride that. But until then, we will have to use the poor man’s form of transportation: our feet.”

“Walks? Did someone say walks?” asked Caboose, causing all the reds, who had forgotten about him, to jump. He had spent the entire “staff meeting” sitting next to a tree and smearing leaves all over his faceplate, the reflective gold surface of which was now marred by green streaks. The blue-clad lunatic jumped to his feet, with Epsilon in one arm and an assault rifle clutched hazardously in the other. “I LOVE WALKS!” he shouted, “Ooh! Let’s goooooooo… this way!” Caboose picked a direction at random and darted into the bushes like an excited puppy.

“Come back here, ya blue devil!” yelled Sarge, stuffing his helmet back onto his head. “You’re still our prisoner!” The old man took off in pursuit, with Lopez following closely behind.

“Wait, Caboose was our prisoner?” asked Grif.

“I guess, yeah,” answered Simmons. “Shouldn’t we be going after everyone?”

“Do we have to?” groaned Grif. “‘cause it’s been, like, three hours since my last nap.”

“Yes, we do,” Simmons decided, “Besides, it’s not like you don’t need the exercise, fatass.”

 

* * *

  
  
  


Lie Ren was a gull on the wind.

Soaring through the sky at seventy miles an hour, it was easy to understand why humanity dreamt of flight. The air whipping against one’s face, whistling in one’s ears… It was an experience without compare. 

He heard Nora cackling with delight somewhere off to his left. It was safe to say she was enjoying it just as much as he was, if not more. He wondered if there was someone out there with a semblance that allowed them to fly. Given that there were nearly 25 million people in the world, each with their own semblance, it was almost a certainty. However, it was just as likely that said person would never take the time to unlock their semblance, or even their auras, and would die unaware of their gift. “ _ Then again, there are probably some faunus out there who don’t even need a semblance to fly,“ _ he speculated,  _ “Does humanity really shun the faunus because we see them as inferior? Or are we just jealous?” _

Unfortunately, Ren did not have the capacity to fly indefinitely, and had been steadily losing altitude. It was high time to return to the ground, preferably in one piece. A giant ash tree loomed in front of him, towering over the rest of the forest canopy. This was perfect for Ren’s landing strategy. 

As Ren flew past, he buried one of StormFlower’s blades into the gray bark of the tree. Maintaining his grip on the weapon, he swung around the side of the trunk, dragging the blade through the wood behind him. Ren was no slouch when it came to weapon maintenance, and Stormflower slid along as if the mighty ash were nothing more than wet clay. The wood did, however, offer up enough resistance so that as Ren whipped around and around the tree, descending the trunk in a corkscrew fashion, he gradually lost momentum. By the time he  reached the bottom, Ren had slowed down enough to safely leap onto the forest floor. Pausing to brush himself off and reholster his weapons, he heard a loud explosion above him. He looked up to see a blonde rocket soar through the clear blue sky, cheering as it went.  _ “Another human being experiencing the wonders of flight,” _ thought Ren. The girl’s cheers receded into the distance, and he was alone.

Ren picked a direction at random and began to walk. It was quite a pleasant walk, what with the cool breeze and the distant sounds of teenagers fighting grimm. For once, he was glad Nora wasn’t around. She just didn’t take time to appreciate the beauty of nature. With Nora, things usually fell in one of four categories: Smash it, Blow it Up, Eat it, and Oh My Gods It’s So Adorable Ren Can We Keep It. (Grimm were present in three of those categories, and would probably fall in all four if they didn’t have a nasty habit of dissolving after they were killed.) 

After some time, Ren came to a clearing of tall grass. His childhood had been full of stories about the monsters that hid in the tall grass, preying on travelers. Ren was aware that these were just folk legends, and that there weren’t any more grimm in the tall grass than there were anywhere else. He made a mental note to check Nora’s legs for ticks once they found each other.  _ “It would be a shame if she spent her first semester at Beacon battling borreliosis instead of evil,”  _ he thought.

Ren was about halfway through the clearing when his aura began to tingle. Something was watching him. He stopped in his tracks, but the grass kept on rustling. This was accompanied by an obnoxiously loud hissing noise sourced approximately a meter behind his left ear. “ _ It must’ve used my movement through the grass to mask its own noises. I should’ve been more careful,”  _ thought Ren. His stalker, realizing the game was up, circled around to face him. It was a creature of Grimm, of the serpentine variety known as taijitu _. _ Ren had fought many taijitu before, but never one this massive. This one looked like it could swallow a car.

The taijitu screamed and leapt at him, it’s fanged maw going for a quick kill. Ren flipped backwards, but was unable to prevent the creature from ramming its skull into his chest. He managed to land on his feet, but the taijitu took the opportunity to surround him with walls of rippling dark scales. Calling them black would be inaccurate. Ren’s hair was black, his shoes were black. Grimm were black only as much as the space between the stars in the night sky could be called black. Not black, just empty.

Ren drew StormFlower and leapt upwards, escaping the rapidly closing coils of the serpent-thing. He flipped in midair, spraying the creature with dust rounds before following through with a kick to the creature’s head, which he sent slamming into the dirt. As the Grimm attempted to re-orient itself, he slashed its throat with StormFlower’s blades. Plumes of shadow billowed from the wound as the injured creature struggled to hold itself together. The taijitu lunged at Ren once more, and Ren responded by driving his weapon into the creature’s skull. The great snake-like creature slumped to the ground. Ren was about to finish it off, but another hissing noise caught his attention.

“ _You’ve got to be kidding me_ ,” thought Ren. Another taijitu, just as big as the first one, slithered into the clearing behind him. He wrenched his blades free and darted back, keeping the both the newcomer and it’s injured companion in front of him. The two beasts threw themselves at him again, and Ren jumped upward, landing on the first grimm and sliding down its length, his boots gliding over the void-colored scales. He unloaded his guns into the flank of the second grimm as both taijitu tried to circle around and strike at him, weaving about the clearing like a pair of ribbons controlled by invisible gymnasts. Eventually, one of them managed to headbutt him in the ribs, knocking Ren off his ride and StormFlower out of his hands. The first grimm, still leaking black fog, was upon him almost instantly, fangs ready to pierce flesh…

...Ren threw up his hands, grunting in pain as ivory tips sharper than broken glass buried themselves into his palms. His aura may have prevented the creature from piercing his skin, but it still hurt like hell. Arms shaking with exertion, Ren slid his hands to grab the beast’s immense incisors, ripping them free with a yell. The sudden lack of biting utensils did not seem to discourage the grimm, which dove at the huntsman-in-training with the intent of swallowing him whole. Ren sidestepped and drove one of the fangs he had “appropriated” from the taijitu into its own eye socket with enough force to make the creature’s head explode into dark mist. 

Ren turned to the second grimm, which was still sitting on top of StormFlower, and charged. The creature lunged, but instead of sidestepping the attack Ren chose to roll forwards underneath it. The taijitu, realizing it was going to overshoot its prey by several dozen meters, attempted to reverse direction in midair; however, all it did was land in a clumsy heap atop the first grimm’s disintegrating corpse. Ren, after retrieving his weapons, calmly walked over to where the monster was still struggling to untangle itself and stabbed it until it stopped moving.

“Skraa!” said a voice above him. Nora dangled down headfirst from a tree branch from which she had evidently been watching the entire battle. It was also apparent she had stopped for a snack, as her face was smeared with wild blackberry juice.

_ “ _ I still don’t think that’s what a sloth sounds like,” he remarked.

Nora reached out a finger and tapped his nose. “Boop!”

* * *

 

“So, what do you think this is?”

Red team (Plus Caboose) had regrouped around a circular stone platform. The platform was ringed with a series of small pillars, each with a model of a chess piece on top. 

“It looks like some sort of modern art installation,” said Simmons. 

“That’s stupid. Why would someone place art out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Artists are weird. I read that before the war, there used to be groups of people who’d fly out into the middle of deep space and drop off statues and stuff.”

“Nobody gives a crap about what you read, Simmons,” said Grif. “Now is it just me, or has this forest gotten a whole lot louder in the past hour?”

Somewhere in the distance, an animal howled, only to be cut off by an explosion.

* * *

 

“Should we intervene?” asked Glynda, staring at the group of colored figures moving about on her scroll. They appeared to be in some sort of argument, but without audio feed, it looked like they were just bobbing their heads up and down. 

“No,” said Ozpin, sipping from his mug of cocoa. “An important part of becoming a huntsman or huntress is being able to deal with… unexpected problems. However, I  _ am  _ curious as to how they didn’t trigger any of our proximity sensors… If they survive the next two hours, we’ll bring them in for questioning.”

* * *

  
  


“Holy shit,” said Tucker.

The three soldiers were standing at the rim of massive pit large enough to drive an alien supercarrier through. Housed in the pit was what Tucker guessed was a massive wedge- shaped starship of some kind; like everything else in the facility, it looked like it was built by someone who knew what they were doing but lacked the proper materials. Some sections looked like they had been cobbled together out of spare parts, some must have been salvaged from other craft, and some looked suspiciously clean and new, which meant they were probably stolen. The ledge where Tucker and his friends stood was connected to an open hatch on the side of the spacecraft by the least trustworthy-looking hard light bridge the soldier had ever seen.

“Wow, that’s a really deep hole!” said Donut. Tucker briefly considered shoving the pink space marine off the edge. “Hey! If that’s a spaceship, maybe we can use it to get out of here!”

“Are you sure?” said Doc. “Tucker, isn’t this that superweapon you were talking about? Because if that’s the case, I’m not sure taking it for a joyride is a good idea…” 

“Eh, we’ll be fine!” Tucker said, testing the bridge with his foot. It held firm, and he ventured out further. “It can’t be that hard to  _ not _ fire a superweapon.” 

“Alright,” Doc relented, and the three troopers crossed the narrow bridge, taking great care not to look in to the bottomless void beneath them. As they stepped through the hatch, a chime rang, followed by a loud voice over an intercom.

“ _ వెళ్లకమే కెప్టెన్ యు'రే వన్ హండ్రెడ్ థౌసండ్ ఇయర్స్ బెహింద్ షెడ్యూల్” _

Donut jumped. “There are people still on board?”

“Relax, it was just a recorded message,” said Tucker. Something crunched beneath his boots. He looked down, and realized he had just put his foot through some dead alien’s ribcage. Donut screamed in terror and ran off. 

“So, what did the message say?” Asked Doc, carefully stepping around a skull.

“No idea.”

“But I thought you spoke alien?”

“I do.  _ Modern _ alien. That shit was old alien. Like the alien version of Ancient Roman or whatever.”

“Oh. So, how do you think all these people died?”

“Again, no idea.” Tucker nudged another skeleton with the barrel of his rifle.

“Tucker, stop disrespecting the dead,” said Doc. “So, are we just going to keep wandering around aimlessly, or…?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been following this line of green lights in the floor.”

“How long has that been there?”

“Ever since the message played,” said Tucker. Donut reappeared behind them, carrying a very full backpack. Tucker didn’t want to know what was inside it. 

“So, where to now?” Donut asked. 

“Here, I guess,” said Doc. The trio found themselves in front of another elevator. They piled in, and the door slid shut behind them. Tucker was about to press a button at random, but the elevator decided for him, throwing the troopers to the floor as it shot upward. The doors slid open once more, and the soldiers fell out into what was clearly the ship’s bridge. All the consoles were dark, with the exception of a holographic ring on the central panel.

_ “Well, this one’s a no-brainer,”  _ thought Tucker, and before Doc had time to protest, he activated his “sword” and swiped at the glowing circle. The ship began to shake as systems which had been lying in wait for eons woke from their sleep. A series of rapidly flashing holographic symbols filled the main viewport, and it didn’t take a genius to realize it was a countdown.

The starship was about to launch.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: My sensors are still calibrating  
> 2: You don't say...  
> 3: What do you mean, "you miscalculated?" You didn't calculate anything! You told me to press a button, and hoped that it would magically take you where you wanted to go! We could be anywhere in the universe right now! In fact, You're lucky we didn't teleport into deep space, or the center of a sun!  
> 4: Really?  
> 5: Of course. Why do I bother?


End file.
